Woo hoo

Vacation here I come!!!

I'm actually writing this on the plane on the way to my first vacation in several years. I am not a huge fan of flying, and forgot to bring headphones.

I did bring a book, thank goodness, but I wish I could listen to music.

We go live for real with our new payroll system next week, so I'm really glad to get a couple of days to myself. Even if they were unintentionally scheduled to one of the busiest weeks I've had all year.

It'll be back to work hit the ground running on Monday though. It can take it's time getting here.

I am already tired

First payroll on the new system today.

I am not a morning person. You need me to stay up till 3 for some reason? No problem. You want me to get up at 3? 4?5? Best of luck to you.

This morning, for example, I was up shortly before 5. And wishing for the sweet release of death shortly after.

I'm cold, and tired, and my eyes are gluey.

But payroll must be run, and with a noon deadline, my amount of time I have to do it is really only flexible one way.

If this doesn't make sense, it's not my fault. Mostly asleep Bees is a different person than awake one. And if you want a prime example of that,  I typed my real name after asleep and couldn't figure out why it looked weird.

My candy bucket for a nap.

Fires and fake pockets

From flaming dumpsters to actual fires. The fire alarm went off the other day. I was in Marvin’s office giving him an update on the never ending project I’m working on, when an announcement came over the PA system. “Fire, evacuate immediately.” He looked at me and goes, “Grab your stuff, it’s time to go.”

I went down the hall to Bofur’s office, and he was already on the phone, trying to figure out if it was a false alarm.

Thankfully, it was, and someone had just hit the wrong button on the control pad. It added ‘update emergency preparedness plan’ to my schedule, because if it had been a real fire, everyone would have been in deep doo.

That’s also the fastest I’ve seen some people move, coming out of offices to see if it was a real fire, and if it was time to head out.

That’s about the most exciting thing that’s happened this week, other than me fussing at a guy for making fun of my fanny pack.

It isn’t stylish, and I feel like a dweeb wearing it. As any female knows, pockets are a problem, or rather, the lack thereof.

[Insert photo set here of Leslie Knope talking to Ben about pockets. I can’t do that on my phone, so you’ll just have to picture it.]

To make up for the fact that’s my work pants either don’t have pockets at all, or are so small you could fit a quarter and a half a stick of gum in them, I got a fanny pack to compensate.

That way, when I go out on the floor, I have somewhere to put my phone, my watch, some sticky notes and pens, and a couple of tissues. If I’m just running out there real quick, I don’t take it, but otherwise, I do.

Anyway, Dori took it upon himself to comment on it. I’ve had and used it for a couple of months, and he is the first to do so, to my face, anyway. I told him I was rocking it, and then showed him the fake pocket situation I was working with yesterday.

He then agreed that it was a good idea, and that fake pockets are stupid. Mission accomplished.

Headless chicken in a flaming dumpster

Y'all. I need a vacation. 

I don't even know what I do all day. Really. 

I go in, work for a while, then its suddenly almost four and I haven't had lunch, and wonder why I'm so hateful. Hangry is real. 

I really like my job, I do. But dang. I keep thinking eventually I'll hit a rhythm. I think that rhythm has been hit, and unfortunately, it's the tune of one of those super fast songs they play at Zumba. (I think. I took one Zumba class in college, and that was enough. No thank you.)

There are many, many times that I feel like I'm running around like a crazy person. I try not to be a hand holder, because that's not my job. But sometimes, I feel like my job is to herd cats. Or kindergartners on a massive sugar high. 

I'll be working on something at my desk, then my boss will ask for something. While I'm working on that, someone will come in with a pay or benefits question. Then the phone will ring. Oh, the phone. I think other people are allergic to answering it.Then someone with far more schooling than me (and possibly with engineer in their title) will need help figuring out how the printer works. And at least once a week, a salesperson without an appointment shows up and tries to sell us something, and I get to run them off. It's like I'm my job, tech support, house mom, and gatekeeper all at once. And like I said, I love my job. But the attitude of 'I need this right now' is what gets to me. There are two people in the building that get to ask that of me, and they are the two that least often do.

On Monday, I had received 64 emails by 10:45. By the time I left a little before 5, I had 132.

The company I work for is going through some restructuring, which only adds to the madness. This week, we finally officially transition to the new payroll system they said we were going to be on in March. When paystubs hit tomorrow, it's going to get crazy. I'm not looking forward to it. People have a hard time being patient and understanding sometimes. I agree that they need to be paid what they are owed, but dang. I'm doing the best I can. If it was my fault, I would take responsibility for it, but there are limited things I can do to make it better right away. I don't have that much pull. If I did, I would get paid more. 

There's a guy who keeps accusing 'me' of stealing his pension. Not me specifically, but the company, and he's talking to me when he says it. Our company did away with the pension program, and people are not happy about it. I told Boss and Grand Boss that if I had stolen his pension, like actually taken it for myself, I wouldn't be at work. I would be on an island somewhere they don't extradite to the United States with my feet propped up. However, I did not have anything to do with the pension program, so I guess it's off to work for me. 

Except next week, cause I actually am going on vacation, and I'm super excited. I haven't been on vacation in.... four years? It's been a while. I got vacation when I was at the paper, but I didn't have any money, because I was working at the paper. So I just took the week or whatever it was off, and hung out around the house. Which was relaxing, but I'm excited to be able to go somewhere. I'm going to the beach, and when I told my boss I'd like off to go to the beach, he said no. I was about two seconds away from going, "Excuse me?" when he told me I didn't need to go anywhere near the beach because I'm so pale. Which is true. I told him I was more going shopping near a beach. This time next week I'll be gearing up to go! And them come back to mountains of work. Yay. 

Abuse of power

Bonus post, yay! It would be longer, but 4 a.m. comes very early. It hurts to think about.

So last week, we had training and meetings going on. It's part of my job to bring in lunches when the situation calls for it. Friday, I did not feel like packing my lunch. I knew this on Thursday. I was feeling lazy in advance. So I sat there, and thought to myself what reasoning I could come up with to bring in lunch on Friday. I came up with something, cleared it with my boss, and ordered from a local restaurant that's been a hit before, and that I like, and that delivers (a definite plus).

People went wild. They were all so excited, you'd think I hadn't brought in food twice that week already. They all said thank you so much, and that I'd done such a great job. A couple of people went almost over the top with their praise. I had to try not to giggle. I called the restaurant. Ordered what I wanted. Paid over the phone. Opened the door for the guy when he came to deliver. Took the lids off stuff and sat out utensils. Ate. That's it. I didn't mind the thanks, at all. It was just super funny to me that I was doing it for entirely selfish reasons, and people thought I was so nice for it.

My evil plan is working.

The delicate flower what's her name

Had a guy come up to ask a question. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. He asked to see Boss, who was out that day. He says, “Oh, well where’s….. that girl?” Alrighty then. Never mind that I’ve been here six months. It’s shocking how often people don’t use my name. Just now a guy walked up to my office, and asked someone else if “she” is here. Just take two more steps forward. I’m right here at my desk. My name is not hard to remember or pronounce, and I am not Voldemort. I am the only one with my name in the building. Not that hard.

I don't necessarily mind when people call me nicknames, or even pet names. I live in the South, (and it sounds better if you exaggerate the accent on south) so it's something I'm used to, and everyone that does it is always very respectful. It's not rare that I go through a day with a few dears, the occasional sweetheart or hon, and one guy calls me pretty lady. These people are almost all my father's age or older, and I think half of them feel like I'm their kid, because I'm the same age as their children.

What I do have a problem with, though, is the what's her names, the "that girl"s, and the she/her. I have a name, it's there for you to use. If you forget for some reason, you can glance at my business cards that are right there on the desk in front of you.

Some days, I'm not sure the guy across the hall knows my name. Logically, I'm sure he does. I share a name with one of his daughters. He often calls me sunshine, which is nice. I am the age of his daughters, so it's not weird. However. He's called me the wrong name twice now. He keeps calling me Carrie. My name is not Carrie. There is a Carrie that comes sometimes. She and I look nothing alike. At all. The first time, he kept talking and made his way into my office. Which was good. Cause I was wondering if Carrie had come in and I missed it. The second time, I just ignored it, and he sorted himself out. I don't think he knows that he's called me by the wrong name. 

One possible consequence of people feeling sort of like I'm everyone's kid (I'm well into my mid 20's but have been reliably informed by at least two seperate people on seperate occasions that I look about 17) is that they feel like I'm delicate. I don't mind people doing things for me, opening doors, offering to carry obviously heavy packages, all helpful. Where it turns, though, is when they take it too far.  

For example, one day shortly after I started, there was a little puddle of grease in the hallway. It was about the size if my hand, a different color than the floor, and in the middle. Someone came through to wipe it up, which I appreciated, but his reasoning was that he didn't want me to trip.

Another time, I was borrowing a cart from the stockroom. It was empty. The guy that works in the stockroom told one of the mechanics that I needed help pushing it up to the front. The guy immediately agreed. Which was nice, but super unnecessary. 

Last week, I was bent over at the waist to cut one of those ties off a box of paper. Not to pick it up. Just to snip that tie thing, whatever it's called. My boss came through and told me to be careful, I was going to hurt myself. Like, what? I'm sorry. If I hurt myself by bending over, I think I need to just go straight to the hospital. I'm not 80. I mean, I act like it sometimes, but still. I was fine.




P.S.
I finally got around to picking names for my coworkers, and you can find that page labeled The Cast by clicking the hyperlink, and also in the menu on the right. I finished it after I wrote this week's posts, so I'll start using those names Friday and going forward.